


Entropic Change

by kahlannightwing



Series: Ryldril's Records [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-03
Updated: 2009-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kahlannightwing/pseuds/kahlannightwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two blood elves meet on the road to Silvermoon. This is the beginning of a beautiful relationship.</p><p>At some point, I might fill in the gaps left in these stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entropic Change

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a fiction challenge.

He contemplated taking out his dagger and just slicing the damned thing off. The bright blue lock of hair hung in his face now, tousled by the wind as he sat on a low rock beneath a tree that provided adequate shade from the heat of the day.

The rest of his hair stayed obediently in its high ponytail, only being tugged by the gusts of air occasionally. This one strand though just refused to obey him. It was annoyingly loud in color, especially considering the rest of his hair was white. It was shorter than the rest of his hair and refused to grow longer. Yet at the same time it also wouldn't stay short or be cut completely.

He remembered staring in the mirror at it one day, maybe ten years ago. He had tried to cut it off completely then, hands shaking with emotion, anger and hurt. They had all considered it to be a bad omen. He hadn't known, and still didn't know, what kind of omen, but they had all spoken of it in front of him, unconcerned with his presence there as he was just a child. The knife slicing through his hair had hurt, but he'd cut it off until only an annoying buzz of it remained pressed to his scalp. He'd only had a moment of satisfaction before he'd watched it grow back right before his eyes.

He hadn't told anyone what had happened.

Now he held the strand of blue hair out from face, glaring at it in the same manner he had back then. So intent was he on his nemesis, he failed to notice that someone had walked right in front of him and stopped to stare.

It was only the clearing of a throat that made his eyes dart up and focus forward. A particularly hard breath of wind moved over both elves as they looked at each other. One with surprise, still holding onto the strand of hair, and the other with serious consideration.

Finally the stranger's face broke into a friendly if amused smile. “It's blue.”

Ryldril leaned back some, hand falling from his hair to rest casually next to his belt, where his dagger was. He took a moment to consider that sentence, decided it still made no sense, and then spoke. “What?”

“That bit of hair there is blue. I figured since you were staring at it for so long with such a fierce expression it either pissed you off or you forgot what color it was. I assumed the latter because...well, it's just hair.”

The look on Ryldril's face must have conveyed the emotion he was feeling about this man because the other laughed. The laugh itself was a pleasant sound, rich and echoing around the meadow-like space they occupied. The sound, however, only made Ryldril's face change from looking at the stranger as if he was crazy to scowling all over again.

The laughter died down and the stranger took a step toward the other, still smiling in a kind manner. He stopped when Ryldril tensed at his approach. “I meant no offense. I just get that look so much.

“I'm sorry to have disturbed you, but I couldn't help noticing you in such intense concentration. My name is Vhearun, and I'm on my way to Falconwing Square. Would you care to accompany me?”

Ryldril shifted on the rock, putting one leather-clad foot out in front of him as he actually looked this Vhearun over. His manner of speaking spoke of a noble-born elf, but his fashion of dress, while neat and obviously stylish, was just simple leathers and cloth. His hair was long and undone, straight down his back and parted severely at the bangs. It was as white as Ryldril's.

Ryldril had tried to hide his own speech patterns to mask his upbringing and was quick to don cheap clothes that would still provide him protection. Vhearun looked to have half the task done and either didn't care or was fresh to the “let's run away from home” or “be exiled” scene.

Vhearun was still waiting patiently, boots scuffing at the rocks scattered along the road he still stood on. The road was the safest means of travel between cities. Even where Ryldril was sitting not feet from it invited the big cats and smaller wyrmlings to attack him. He wasn't overly concerned though. He was much stronger than any of them now.

“I'm a mercenary.”

Vhearun's brows rose then, but instead of the usual sneer, he appeared even more interested. “Are you for hire currently or on a job? Either way, I'm sure I could offer more than whatever you're currently getting that has you sitting on the side of the road.”

Ryldril had to chuckle. Vhearun was definitely noble-born. They always believed that everyone came with a price and could be bought. They weren't far off really. He and his profession were proof enough of that. “I am not currently on a job, no. I was just resting before heading onto Falconwing Square.”

“So we are going in the same direction! Fantastic! Would you accompany me? I will be sure to pay you well. In fact, not only will I do that, but we could retire to my quarters in the inn and speak of further commission.”

The way the other elf clapped his hands made him appear young, but Ryldril wasn't quite fooled. He knew that charming manner well enough. He had employed it enough times himself. Standing, he looked down at his makeshift armor and then at the dagger at his hip. He did need the work. His kind didn't seem to need much protecting on this road as most of them had fought in the war against the Scourge invading their homeland. The ones that did, didn't pay enough.

Certainly he didn't have the supplies he knew he would need for a trip into wilder lands, where money would flow out of more desperate hands.

Looking up, he nodded to Vhearun and was surprised when the other stepped confidently into his personal space and threw an arm over his shoulder. Vhearun was shorter than him but not by much.

“So tell me, handsome mercenary, what is your name?”

He could feel a blush creeping onto his face. That compliment certainly opened new perceptions for him. “Ryldril.”

Vhearun, like any noble-born would, led Ryldril back onto the road and started them on their way with the full confidence that Ryldril would not disengage from his touch. “And why were you staring so intently at that interesting and quite attractive strand of blue hair?”

The scowl returned full-force. “You're one of the few that's met me that didn't make a sign to ward off evil when you saw it. Most consider this,” he tugged at the strand, “a bad omen.”

It was obvious from his blank stare that Vhearun still didn't see it that way. “Really? Interesting.... But I believe I already said it was.... So, let me see if I've got this right, Ryldril: you're a sort of outsider because of a single strand of blue hair that you quite possibly could have dyed as a way of expressing yourself?”

Shaking his head, Ryldril quickly answered. “Everyone knows of me around here—or at least of the cursed one with the blue lock of hair. They'll hire me for a good sword,” chuckling, he gave a sardonic grin to the man beside him, “or rather dagger, but nothing more.”

Vhearun seemed to absorb this, and Ryldril found himself admiring this man. He was a good listener and actually seemed interested in Ryldril. “I suppose that means you should leave this area.

“You know, I could use someone who would venture forth and check out the latest goings on in the world. I would make sure you were well supplied. You could start in Ghostlands even. I hear we are planning on making our alliance with Undercity more active.”

They were passing over a bridge by this point, the sound of the water under them trickling peaceful. He could see an abandoned wagon nearby as he listened to Vhearun. Most of the useable parts had been stripped of it. Nodding, he kept his eyes straight ahead, but he grew more tense as they left the bridge behind them. The road forked off into a smaller path, and it was this path Ryldril kept his eyes away from.

He could tell Vhearun was no longer looking at him though. In fact, the other elf had almost stopped walking. Glancing over, he saw the man's eyes glaring at the building he had been trying to avoid. “That's where they train the paladins.”

His voice was quiet enough, almost somber in tone, that Vhearun tore his eyes away from the building to look at him. He nodded as his eyes flickered over the tense jawline of the other. Ryldril's gaze was back to the front. “I know. I...dislike them intensely.”

“You can say hate,” Ryldril said nonchalantly. “I won't get offended. They didn't accept me when I applied.”

“If it was because of your hair, that's even more reason to...hate them.” Vhearun smiled again, one of his hands rising to tug playfully at the strand. “I could help you out if it makes you that uncomfortable, or maybe just make it easier for you to blend in. It wouldn't be hard to just dye all your hair blue.”

Ryldril looked up at the barreled-vault ceiling as they passed under what had been the gates of Falconwing Square. Now most of the village was overrun by elves who had become maddened by their addiction to the magic that flowed through every elf's veins. Only a tiny corner of it, nearest the elf's capital city, remained unscathed.

“Are we going to have sex?”

It seemed random to ask that, and indeed Vhearun looked at him with shock. Ryldril brought his head down, turning it to look at Vhearun with a little smile on his lips, the first the other man had seen. Returning the smile, Vhearun pulled Ryldril closer to him. “Probably. You are quite sexy, and I am quite horny.”

“Oh, I'm horny too.... How long do you want me to work for you?”

Vhearun had to laugh at the constant switch in topics. He had a feeling he would grow to like Ryldril very much. “I don't foresee an end to it any time soon, Ryldril.”

Nodding, Ryldril turned back to keep a wary eye on the areas slightly below and to the sides of the now elevated road they walked. That was where the addicted elves traveled, looking to siphon any source of magic, including that of their brethren. “Then let us retire for now and you can tell me the depth of your plans,” he paused, “Lord Vhearun.”

Saying nothing against the title, which only confirmed Ryldril's earlier suspicions, Vhearun led them toward the inn that was now looming ahead. “Not to sound cliché, but I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”


End file.
